Dryw Henge

by Jonathan Forth

  They raked round to the left of Ampheus, heading north east. By the time the first few shouts of warning could be heard from the Horde, the Amphean knights were upon them. The cavalry trampled tents and sleeping quarters; snapping tent poles, tearing at canvas and trampling on the dozing bodies underneath. The Horde spilled out of their camp; however, those within reaching distance of the cavalry were carved down.

  Those further away could only watch as the stampeding chargers came and went before they could react. A few arrows were let off but these were easily deflected by the knights’ shields and armour.

  When the last chargers had crossed the drawbridge, it was slowly pulled closed and locked once more. Urien had led the charge. The King and Logar followed up the rear.

  “Follow me!” shouted the King and the last four knights peeled off and headed up the hill to Gorath’s pavilion.

  “Is this wise Sire?” shouted Logar.

  The King responded, “Let’s give the men something to cheer about.” Once they crested the hill the King swung his horse round and grabbed Gorath’s standard. He pulled on Star Dancer’s reins and he reared up on his hind legs as the King raised the standard in the air. Cheers could be heard from the castle as the King and his men galloped away. They rode through the Horde’s disorganised ranks and re-joined the back of the column.

  “Sire, that was a bit of a risk,” shouted Logar.

  “Perhaps,” said the King. “But it may do wonders for the morale of the men particularly those left in the castle, though just what do I do with this stupid flag now is the question?”

  They headed north east to skirt the boundaries of the Great Forest of Tarn. “I had not realised how cooped up I felt in Ampheus. It’s great to be out and free, whatever befalls us in the coming weeks,” said Logar.

  “You are right,” replied the King. “Our destiny is back in our own hands rather than as a prisoner of Gorath’s making. Let’s hope whatever it is, the hand we play makes a difference!”

  *

  The Queen’s hands were lashed to the horn of her saddle. The leather straps cut into her skin numbing her fingers, which throbbed with pain as the bindings impeded the blood flow to her hands.

  They travelled day and night just taking short rests. She had learnt days ago that the Janshai cared little for her comforts or well-being. They had to deliver her to Gorath, and deliver her alive. That was it.

  They would neither stop if she was thirsty, hungry, tired, nor in pain. In fact, they seemed to take pleasure in her discomfort and any sign of weakness. Once she realised that, she stopped complaining and would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her wilting.

  She was a Queen of Ampheus, and as such, these barbarians would not beat her. She sat tall and proud in her saddle and held her head high. She stared them directly in the eye when they spoke to her, challenging them to break her, but they would not. She knew that.

  As night fell they made camp on a rocky outfall sheltered from the cool, night breeze. The Janshai sat in a semi-circle around a fire; a couple of sentries sitting perched on the rocks looking out into the open space ahead of them for any sign of danger.

  The Queen sat up against the rocks under a ledge. She was trapped between a boulder and the Janshai with no hope of escape.

  The Janshai caught and cooked a couple of rabbits and one brought a small joint of meat to the Queen. He dropped it in the dirt, “Dinner is served Your Highness,” he smiled, turned and went back to the men.

  The Janshai laughed and talked loudly. There were no hushed voices, or furtive movements of animals that live in constant fear of those higher up the food chain. The Janshai were unafraid of whatever was out there, confident of their status as predators and not prey.

  The Queen though sensed something had changed; the woods around them had gone quiet. No more hoots from the owls and chattering from the forest dwellers. Instead just the voices of men and the crackling of the wood on the fire. The Queen waited; above her she felt movement, a shadow, the pad of paws and the low growls of the beast stalking the men. It was almost upon them, she could feel its warm breath from above, the glint of its deadly fangs in the moonlight.

  She shrank herself back into the ledge and waited. The sabre-tooth roared and pounced at the same time. It dug its claws and fangs into the sentry ripping through his skin and bone and dragging the body back to the rocks. The man was already dead, if the Janshai had let the sabre-tooth take him it would have ended there.

  But no, they leapt to his defence raising shouts and screams, and the men surrounded the sabre-tooth with spears and swords. The ferocious beast fought back snarling, slashing its claws, snapping its teeth into the Janshai’s soft flesh.

  Still bound, the Queen took her chance. She pushed herself up on her haunches, waited for her moment and ran. She dashed fast and straight for the woods and disappeared into the undergrowth. She did not stop and she did not turn back. She kept running, branches scraping her face as she staggered through them.

  She was not trying to confuse the Janshai and cover her tracks. She knew that was pointless as the Janshai were expert trackers. No, she just needed to make as much distance between herself and the Janshai as she could.

  The Janshai did not see her run, instead they fought the sabre-tooth and slowly overwhelmed it until it lay limp on the floor. Though now, two of the Janshai were slain rather than one. The others had injuries that would need to be tended to. One of the Janshai stood with a victorious foot on the body of the sabre-tooth. Others removed claws and teeth as trophies. They settled back to the fire, adrenalin coursing through their veins, as they recounted every cut and thrust.

  Only then did they realise the Queen was missing. Their leader cursed and ordered the men back on their feet. It would be more difficult to track her at night but she was bound and they were Janshai. It would not be long before the hounds of Gamura caught the Terramian rabbit, they were sure of that.

  While she ran, the Queen considered her options: Hide in the undergrowth? Climb a tree? She knew the Janshai would find her eventually. She had lost sense of her bearings. She just about maintained the moon on her left-hand side but would lose it in the thick branches and leaves of the trees above. She would correct herself but knew she was losing valuable time. If anything, she was surprised not to hear anything from her pursuers by now.

  Then it happened, she heard voices heading in her direction. The crack of twigs and slapping of branches being pushed aside and flicking back into place. She dashed on stumbling, scratching her bare skin, regaining her balance and pushing on once more. Perhaps one hundred feet, fifty, twenty, they were closing in, until she felt a hand grab her and pull her down.

  She struggled to break free, but it was no good, he held her too tight. The Janshai was breathing hard struggling to regain his breath. He cupped his hand over her mouth so she could not even scream.

  A few moments passed, the Janshai regained his composure, but he still gripped his hand over her mouth. She could tell another couple had arrived and were standing nearby on guard. Then in the distance she heard it, a shout of surprise and alarm. The clatter of metal on metal and the sound of combat.

  She struggled to break loose again when a voice hissed in her ear. “Aye milady, silence, please let an old pirate regain his breath. These legs were made for the sea and not the land. If I run any further they’ll be shakier than a jellyfish nicknamed ‘wobbly’.” The Queen instantly relaxed, she recognised that voice.

  The sounds of battle faded into the distance. “Right I think it’s safe now,” said Old Crusty as they stood.

  “Milady, let’s free you from those lashings.” He sliced through the straps with his dagger. As the blood rushed back to her hands, she gasped from the initial pain, but it eased.

  “How?” she blurted, and he chuckled.

  “Well it is a long story, but the short version is the captain saw
what happened on the dock. Grabbed reinforcements from the ship and we’ve been following since, waiting for an opportunity to free you. I guess the chance presented itself; I must say milady you are quite sprightly, even with your hands bound; we almost lost you during the chase.

  “Now how about we find the captain and decide what to do next?”

  *

  “Well milady,” said Captain Blade, “life with you is never dull. I was thinking the life of a queen was all about lavish dresses, balls, piano and embroidery. You are starting to make even a pirate’s life look like a safe and stable career move.”

  “The totem?” asked the Queen.

  The captain shook his head ruefully, “The Janshai broke off and retreated. I assume with the totem. Perhaps the only sensible decision they made today.”

  “Fancy taking on a sabre-tooth, that was never going to end well!” added Crusty.

  “So,” said the captain. “Despite the fact that the crew get more and more lightheaded the further we travel from the sea, we continue to be at your service milady.”

  “Well in that case, accepting in the absence of a severe outbreak of migraines and nosebleeds, could I impose on you to escort me to Dryw Henge and the Great Forest of Tarn?”

  “Hmmm,” said the captain. “All those in favour say Aaiiyyaaii.”

  The crew burst into a chorus of ‘Aye aye captain!’

  *

  The commander of the Aquamuran Army, Commander Orrick, paused. The scout report was clear, a massive number of Horde were heading towards them, perhaps a day or two away. “I estimate ten thousand men, similar in size to ours. There is a sizeable force of Janshai, some professional infantry but the rest are conscripts.”

  “They should not present too much of a challenge to our highly-trained military,” added his General. “Though I believe most likely, they are a delaying tactic more than anything. Lambs to the slaughter. I pity them, probably unlike their own puppet masters.”

  “When it gets down to the action, the Janshai and professional soldiers will disappear in the rout. They will abandon the conscripts to fight their way back to safety, but so be it.”

  The commander looked at the survey of the area, “I know it will mean a couple of lost days but I suggest we wait for them here. The natural valley will funnel them towards us, so we should be able to focus our attack, first with our archers to take many of them down as they push through the valley.

  “Their momentum will bring them on to us. Secondly our cavalry should carve through any that are left, as they should be in disarray. If we need the infantry we can release them, otherwise let’s hold our ground here.

  “I suggest we start preparing stakes and defences in case the Janshai make an early surge. Let’s also dig trenches at our flanks. The hills are open, unprotected land so let’s ensure we protect ourselves from being outflanked. Mark out the positions of the longbow men, as their range will give us an advantage.

  “Be prepared to establish banks of longbow men firing volleys continuously. It should ensure a cloud of arrows that will bring down many of the conscripts. Those that are left should be severely disrupted and will be disorganised in attack.

  “Our defense should also promote caution within the Janshai. Unlike our armoured knights they are not completely protected by their armour. A longbow arrow has a chance to penetrate their weaker joints and areas not covered by their helmets.”

  *

  The Janshai scouts had spotted the Aquamuran army and reported back. “Looks like they are waiting for us, preparing themselves for battle in the valley we are nearing.”

  “I assume they believe it will give them an advantage,” said General Popin.

  “Call my steward.” And he scribbled a note to update General Shomari. The steward turned up with a pigeon in tow.

  General Popin was not a career military man. He was a politician who’d wangled the position through his wife’s prominent family. All he was concerned about was his own self-promotion and advancement. The nuances of military tactics were lost on him. His whole life had been a series of decisions that involved ‘throwing the kitchen sink at it’. If that failed, he just moved on and left whoever remained to pick up the pieces.

  “We will surprise them by doing what they least anticipate us to do. We will walk straight into their trap and attack them! It is the last thing they’ll expect.”

  One of his officers coughed gently to get his attention. “Sir, beg your pardon, but won’t that in fact simply be just walking into their trap? Hence that’s why they have set it!”

  “No, they won’t see it coming. It’s brilliant in its simplicity.”

  “Well sire, it’s certainly simple, you are correct in that!”

  *

  The commander of the Aquamuran Army scanned the sky. It had been raining for eight hours solid, and water was running off the hills and gathering in the valley. He looked through his spyglass. In front of them through the blur of the rain the Horde had finally arrived and marched into the valley.

  Behind the lines the earth was churning up and forming a muddy swamp that sucked on the army’s boots. “They’ve been marching for two weeks solid and these conditions will slow down any attack,” he said to his general.

  “I guess they’ll camp out a couple of days until it dries up a little.”

  “Shall we tell the troops to stand down for the moment?”

  “Umm, perhaps not quite yet. Apparently the Janshai are starting a charge.”

  The commander turned, “Are you kidding?” He peered into the gloom of the valley. “You are not kidding!

  “Do they carry weapons at least, tell me they have weapons, they are not simply attacking with rubbery celery? Please say they’ll put up a decent fist of it!”

  The Janshai rode into the valley, swords held high, lightning flashing and glinting across the heavens as they rode. Unquestioning their orders, theirs not to do so, they roared towards the Aquamurans. The thick mud slowing them down exposing them to the Aquamuran longbow men.

  Volleys of arrows in the hundreds flew darkening the sky striking horse and man alike. The Janshai fell to the earth, the shafts of arrows burying into flesh. Horses pitched forward in the mud, throwing their horsemen to the sodden ground. Those that made it through fell on the stakes dug in the ground ahead of the infantry.

  There was a pause on the battlefield. A silence as the enormity of what had occurred sank in. Hundreds of Janshai had fallen in one charge, many left wounded and cries of pain echoed around the field. The commander turned to his general. “Don’t get me wrong, the Janshai are barbarians, yet that was both the bravest and stupidest thing I have ever seen in my military service. Give the order.”

  The general nodded and gave the order. Infantrymen and bowman broke ranks, charged onto the battlefield and fell upon the Janshai. Many of whom were wandering broken and disorientated, finishing them off with swords and spears.

  With a howl, the rest of the Horde rumbled into the valley. The Aquamurans retreated behind their ranks and began more sustained volleys of arrows. Runners fetched more bundles of arrows as the Horde fell under the onslaught. The Gamuran infantry slogged through the mud and falling arrows.

  As men fell they lost their formations, some units gaining ground, others fell behind. For those that survived the arrows, they then faced the Aquamuran Cavalry. Huge muscular horses with hardened breastplates shattered limbs and skulls.

  Men already wallowing in clay could not get out of the way. Dark beasts in the grey gloom trampling through formations leaving broken bodies behind.

  Then the Aquamuran troops overwhelmed their foes, fitter and lighter they moved more easily through the muddy melee. “Do you want to rout the enemy sir?”

  “Yes, send the reserve cavalry in pursuit, but let’s not charge ahead of ourselves. Two leagues at most. It’s highly unlikely, but I
don’t want what’s left of the enemy to rally and cut them off. We had a good day today. Let’s not make it into a bad one.”

  *

  General Popin called his steward into his pavilion. He was sat behind his desk with his head in his hands.

  “I don’t understand it, I thought it was the perfect plan. Do we have any more men left?”

  “There are the cooks and the porters if you want to send them to their certain deaths as well, Sir? Though, there will be no one to carry your things back to Ampheus or to cook for you along the way.”

  “Well,” said the general, “I guess there is no need to be rash.”

  “No sir. It may be wise to quit while we are behind.”

  “Is there any chance we can grab victory from the jaws of defeat?”

  “Frankly sir, we are so beyond the jaws of defeat, I would say we’ve been thoroughly masticated, moved through the stomach, the upper and lower intestines and have just been crapped out the back and trodden in by a pedestrian who was not paying attention and is now cursing their luck.”

  “Please send this note: Overwhelmed by the Aquamuran Army, all is lost, the men are routed, will head back to Ampheus. Do you think it may soften the blow?”

  “I think the only thing likely to soften the blow is your head on a block. Happy to send it sir if you think it may help?”

  “Mind your manners captain, I think I will take my chances!” They attached it to the pigeon’s leg and watched him flutter off over the horizon. The pigeon handler bit his lip. He’d supplemented his pigeon stock with others they had captured along the way. There were always a few pecking in fields or villages that they passed through.

  They may not be thoroughbreds but hell, no one could tell the difference.

  This particular pigeon and message turned up on Lumines docks and led to widespread celebrations around the city.

  General Popin turned to his captain, “So what do we do now?”